“I guess the only disgrace is owing money and not being able to pay,” said the present Lord Rochester. “I’ve come to see that now.”
“Thank God!” said Collins.
“I’ll take rooms at a quiet hotel,” went on the other, “with this eight thousand and the rent from that Gazabo, I ought to tide over the rocks.”
“I don’t see why not, I don’t really see why not,” replied Collins cheerfully, “if you are steadfast in your purpose. Fortunately your wife’s property is untouched, and how about her?”
“Yes,” said Jones, with a cold shiver.
“The love of a good wife,” went on the other, “is a thing not to be bought, and I may say I have very good reason to believe that, despite all that has occurred, you still have your wife’s affection. Leaving everything else aside I think your greatest mistake was having your sister to live with you. It does not do, and, considering Miss Birdbrook’s peculiar temper, it especially did not do in your case. Now that things are different would you care to see your wife, and have a quiet talk over matters?”
“No,” said Jones, hurriedly. “I don’t want to see her—at least, not yet.”
“Well, please yourself,” replied the other. “Perhaps later on you will come to see things differently.”
The conversation then closed, the lawyer promising to let him know should he secure an offer for the house.
Jones, so disturbed by this talk about his wife that he was revolving in his mind plans to cut the whole business, said good-bye and took his departure. But he was not destined to leave the building just yet.